The Silent Calling
by Oh Satellite
Summary: There was a whole world out there. As a child, Meran wanted nothing more than to see it, but reality has a way of making one forget. Sometimes, it takes one dream to crumble for another to be realized.
1. Chapter 1

Well well! I've been on this site for a bit and read a few stories, but this is the first time I've gotten around to writing my own. I hope you enjoy!

_Disclaimer: _The Dragonriders of Pern and its people and places belong to Anne McCaffrey. I gain nothing from this silly fanfiction.

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**The Silent Calling**

Chapter One

Looking back, I see that I have led a privileged life, though that is not how many would describe it.

This is what I have observed: to most holder girls, privilege is to be the daughter of a Lord Holder or a skilled Master, or any other person of notable importance. I watched my friends chatter about their dreams of marrying rich and living in luxury. I've heard stories of beautiful ladies with talents that set them apart from the rest of Pern, enabling them to rise from their humble beginnings to become some renowned singer or weaver or what have you. Silly Harper's tales, that's what they are. I can't sing. Ha! Never could. I was never rich, and my father certainly was no prestigious figure! Yet I am perfectly alright with this. It troubles me not.

I suppose the best place to start my story is at the beginning. I, Meran, was born at Evesend Hold, a small hold - more of a cot hold, really - located south of Benden, to whom we all paid our tithes. Evesend Hold was named with no imagination after its founder - my grandfather. He chose the site for the wide plains that spread out from the base of the mountains, perfect for grazing herdbeasts. Though he lived in a time when Thread did not fall from the sky and caution was all too easy to overlook, my grandfather was a practical man and carved the hold and the stables into the mountainside. He wanted to make sure it would last, and indeed it has.

He bred his herdbeasts to be as sturdy as the mountain he raised them under. Every turn he would drive them to Benden Hold and sell them. Then, just as the hold was finally starting to establish itself in Pern's economy, Evesend passed away. His eldest son Hasban - my father - inherited everything. Hasban continued breeding his father's herdbeasts and business went as smoothly as if the old man had never died. After all, Evesend's stock was good quality and never really had any trouble selling. Despite Hasban's success, Evesend Hold was, and remains to this day, largely unheard of.

That is where I grew up. Small and isolated, the hold was not the most exciting place for a young child, especially one as adventurous as I. I remember I was often bored. To my childish dismay, it was chores that occupied most of my time. There were herdbeasts to care for, stalls to muck, fields to tend, kitchens to run, and so on - I do not care to list them all, and I doubt you care to listen. Nevertheless, I once envied some people because they could so easily commit to their work; they liked what they did. I, on the other hand, could hardly muster up enough concentration to get the job done. I was an only child, and I was lonely; thus my mind was often elsewhere.

That was my solace.

My mind went to fabulous places, places far away from Evesend Hold. In the fields, I was making my way across the expansive plains of Keroon; the dim stables were the vast cave systems of Igen; the kitchen was not that of Evesend Hold, but of Benden Weyr, and I was cooking a meal for the Weyrleaders. On the occasional day where I could avoid my chores, I would sneak away from the hold and try to make my way up into the mountains, entertaining myself with the wild idea that I could climb clear across them and find myself at Benden.

I knew what I wanted when I was young. I wanted to explore all of Pern. Somehow, as the turns passed, I lost view of that. I am not quite sure how that happened, but it must have had something to do with the social norm of my hold. We were very traditional, likely due to our isolation. Men got to be men! You know how that is. Girls, well, we were raised to become wives, mothers, and rulers of the domestic household. I was taught that such was the only path in life open to me and, ashamed as I am to admit, I came to believe it. I was such a daft child!

No more trips into the hills. No more Keroon. No more Igen, no more Benden. Alas, no more Benden Weyr.

Once I slipped into the monotonous routine of a typical young hold girl, a false sense of comfort settled over me, and I cannot clearly recall the period of my life that followed. My memories blur together, all the same, cloudy and insignificant. It is as if I had fallen asleep. I care not - there was nothing worth recalling. What I do remember is a feeling. I was rarely aware of it, but deep down, it was there, and every now and then it would flare up and overwhelm me, leave me feeling barren. It is difficult for me to explain, but I remember it well - that feeling of dissatisfaction. Jays! Here I am, old and wrinkled as a wher, and the memory of it still makes me sick.

I would have gone on like that - stupidly content except for the occasional emotional breakdowns I spoke of, which I blamed on my monthly cycle - but thank Faranth for friends as equally dim as I. I remember it was the beginning of my sixteenth summer, the skies were clear, and I was outside, admiring the stars. Devarn was visiting; he grew up at a neighboring hold and we had been friends for turns. Everyone else was inside, celebrating the Summer Solstice, but Devarn came outside to join me.

"Nice night," I said, twisting around when I heard his approach. He simply nodded and sat down next to me. That was so like him. He never was one to say much. Rather, he preferred to let his body language and expressions do the talking. That always did make him easy to read, so when I looked over at him and saw him staring vacantly out over the plains, his brow furrowed slightly, I knew that he was brewing over something important. But I knew better than to ask; Devarn only spoke when he was ready to.

We sat in silence for quite some time. I continued with my stargazing and Devarn kept staring beyond the horizon. What could keep his mind so preoccupied for so long, I couldn't guess, and by the time he finally did speak, I had long given up trying. The sound of his voice even startled me a little.

"The hold is finished. Real close to home, too," he said. I already knew this. Devarn had told me about it many times before; talking about his new cot hold always got him excited, like a little boy at a bubbly pie stand. Not this time, though. He almost seemed nervous, an uncharacteristic emotion for him, and I waited apprehensively for him to continue. "It's vacant, though - really empty," he remarked oddly, and silence fell once more. Running a hand through his dark curly hair, he sighed. "How do I say this?"

Rhetorical - I knew not to answer, no matter how badly I wanted to tell him to get on with it.

Abruptly, Devarn turned and leveled that brown-eyed gaze of his on me, a sudden light of resolve in his eyes. "Bluntly, I suppose," he answered himself, his voice flat. I tensed, sensing that whatever Devarn was going to say next was more significant than I originally suspected. "Meran, I'm asking you to marry me."

Utter shock. I can't describe my feelings any more accurately than that. I just stared at him, eyes wide, mouth slack, until I managed to compose myself enough to sputter out the only thought that came to my mind. "_What?_"

Devarn didn't even falter. "It would be good for relations between your hold and mine, " he explained, the nonchalance of his tone grating against my already agitated nerves - how could one possibly act so detached about such things? "I have already spoken with your father about it, earlier this night, and he agreed to the idea. He seemed quite pleased, actually. In addition, I was serious when I said the hold seemed empty. What I meant by it is that I want to start a family." He paused, likely chewing over his next words, before continuing with obvious caution. "Besides that, I know you aren't happy."

I looked at him then, even more perplexed than before. I didn't understand what he meant, because, as I have told you, I was daft, daft, daft. "What do you mean I'm not happy?

"I've seen you. I've seen it in your eyes."

"What? That's ridiculous."

"I'm serious, Meran," Devarn said, and his tone and expression left no question that he was. "You hardly ever smile anymore, and when you do, it's barely there. You used to be such a vibrant girl, always laughing, always talking. Jays, sometimes you'd never stop! It was all I could do to get you to... to shut up!" He chuckled now, shook his head, and looked back out over the plains. Then again he sighed, sober once more. "You aren't like that now. You don't like it here, and it's eating away at you."

I just stared at him. I didn't know what to say. My initial reaction was to argue with him, tell him he must have had too much wine again, but something stopped me. First of all, I had never heard Devarn say so much at once. Mostly, though, there was a feeling - _the_ feeling. It welled up inside of me, swiftly, with crushing force, and I could only sit in painful silence as I recognized it. I realized, then, that Devarn was right. He was absolutely right, and it shook me to the core.

"I don't understand," I said quietly. "We're just friends."

"I know that."

"Then why are you asking this of me?"

His eyes returned to meet mine. His expression was soft. "I told you, Meran. I have everything I ever wanted - except a family. I am asking you because there is no one I care for more than you. I hate to see you sad. You need something different, something to live for, and that is what I'm offering you." His voice was so calm. It was comforting. "Think of this marriage as an alliance. We would be good for each other."

I said nothing. I was trying to think. Devarn was a fair man, just six years older than me, and we got along well. He had made a decent start with his cot hold and his land, so I knew he could support me and, in time, a family. Jays, I have to admit that he was even a little handsome. It was everything that a young woman could have wanted.

Besides that, I knew that I wasn't going to get much better an offer. There were few lads near my age in the area, fewer still that were prepared for marriage, and I wasn't exactly desirable either. Ha! Plain-faced, brown hair, brown eyes - I had always wanted blue eyes because they were so rare. I had the height of a man, standing only two inches under six feet, and that never did sit well with those who were shorter than I. I was skinny, too, a right scrawny lass; there were hardly any curves on me. Faranth, I could have passed for a lad if I wanted to!

Yet Devarn was willing to take me. Dear Devarn, always looking out for silly old Meran. Foolish wherry, he could have gone off and found a lady to love with all of his heart, but he was willing to settle for me. I did not love Devarn. He did not love me. We both knew this. We were friends, and nothing more. But we were also young, and hasty. Devarn wanted a family, and I was so confused, stricken with the sudden need to fill the gaping hole in my heart. I didn't know what to do. Desperation had taken its hold, and it clouded my judgment.

"Yes. My answer is yes."

Devarn smiled. Poor boy, he had no idea what he was getting himself into. Neither did I.

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Well, that concludes the first chapter. Constructive criticism would be much appreciated - don't hesitate to be blunt, please!


	2. Chapter 2

Finally, an update. A rather short one, at that. With no dialogue! Goodness glaciers. I was hoping I would be able to update faster than this, but I am a very slow writer, unfortunately. But anyway, I hope this chapter will be satisfactory. And thank you to everyone who reviewed! And in answer to GinnyStar's question, the story's set early on in a pass. Which one, I'm not sure. Yet.

_Disclaimer_: Pern is Anne McCaffery's. Not mine.

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Chapter 2

We married not long after Devarn proposed. It was a warm late-summer evening. The skies were fairly clear and the sun was just beginning to set, sending a gradation of reds and oranges fading into the darkening blue of the opposite horizon. The residents of our two holds, as few as they were, gathered outside to witness the event. They organized themselves to form an aisle for me to walk through, and at the end of the aisle stood Devarn.

As I emerged from the hold, clinging to the arm of my father, Hasban, I took in this sight. Breathing deeply, trying to quash the fears that had been plaguing me for days, I looked up at him. He returned my anxious gaze with an assuring smile and a knowing look in his eyes. He understood how I was feeling. My uncertainty was poorly hidden. Then, straightening up and looking proudly onwards, he turned towards the waiting crowd and began leading me to them. I had no choice but to go along, which is just as well, as I am sure I would have never moved otherwise.

I was trembling as I walked down that aisle, but as scared as I was, I found, with a shaky satisfaction, that it gave me quite a thrill. Whatever new path in life I was about to embark on, good or bad, the simple fact that it disrupted the stagnancy I suffered was good enough for me. I, like my father beside me, straightened up to face my fate.

I could feel everyone's eyes on me. It was unnerving, but I forced myself to look forward. I fixed my gaze on Devarn; he stood at the foot of a small platform constructed and decorated for the occasion. He smiled as I reached him and, separating myself from my father, I took his hand. Together, we walked up the stairs to the platform.

Vows were exchanged. Until death, I promised him. He promised the same. A cord was tied loosely around our clasped hands. We kissed. The audience cheered. I had flowers in my hair.

It was a relief to me. Our agreement was finally sealed and I could breath easier.

After the wedding, we went inside. A feast had been prepared earlier that day and a few of the more talented residents arranged themselves in a corner with their instruments. Music filled the air, adding to the festive appeal of the evening. Spirits were high and burgeoning, spurred by the wedding and the music and, undeniably, the wine. It was just the sort of atmosphere to sooth the rest of my worries away. Constantly congratulated by my family and friends, I couldn't help but beam. Devarn wore a grin that bordered on silly.

Later, as I danced with him, stomping wildly to a lively tune, I noted that I had never felt happier. In that brief moment, I thought of times to come. I thought of the hold we would continue to build together, of raising our children. I smiled to myself and then looked at Devarn. My husband. He met my eyes, matched my smile, and my thoughts turned solely on him. Children and hold forgotten, I envisioned myself growing old with him.

A spinning couple crashed in to us, effectively bringing my attention back to the present. We tangled, stumbled, fell, and laughed, apologizing but not caring who was at fault and who was not. At that moment, nothing could bother me. Wine was buzzing through my veins; the powerful smell of sweat and the constant hum of conversation and laughter went to my head.

That night, I fancied the hope that Devarn and I could be more than friends. I believed, as my husband offered me a hand and pulled me to my feet, that I was in love. I believe Devarn felt the same, for later that night, we retired to his hold and he demonstrated it quite passionately.

It was a perfect end to a perfect day. I had a new life ahead of me. Unfortunately, novelty always wears off. Good memories last longer than alcohol, but neither is a match for the ravages of time.

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That's all, folks. Thanks for reading! Next chapter won't be so brief.


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